Portrait
by Lanoire
Summary: Marius remembers a day with the Friends of the ABC on the first anniversary of the barricade.


Disclaimer: Les Miserables belongs to Victor Hugo

Notes: See Marius angst. Angst, Marius, angst. 

     June 6, 1833. Had it truly been an entire year? Marius Pontmercy had returned hesitantly to the Café Musain to honor his friends. The graveyard hadn't seemed to pay them proper tribute. Their bodies may have rested there, but Marius felt that their lives were here in the café. 

     The map of France still hadn't been removed Marius saw when he stepped into the little back room. One corner had torn off, and it hung with one edge folded over onto itself. Besides that, though, there was nothing left of the Friends of the ABC. Marius knew there was probably a new group of boys that occupied this room, but surely none of them could have hopes and dreams like the Friends of the ABC had had. 

     Marius sat down at one of the tables. This had been Combeferre's usual spot, Marius remembered. He'd sat here and looked up at Enjolras, who would stand on the chair next to this one, or by it. The others didn't have a spot that was their usual, save Grantaire, who normally slumped in the table in the corner, flat drunk and raving. But looking at each table, he could just picture his friends there. He glanced at one of the tables near the wall. Courfeyrac, Joly, Bossuet, and Bahorel had sat there. The time he was remembering, Joly hadn't, miraculously, had any illness and Courfeyrac and Bossuet kept teasing him about it. The four had been playing cards, and Bossuet had lost every round and had been forced to bet his hat. He lost that, too. 

   That same day, Jean Prouvaire had been embarrassedly showing Feuilly some of his poems. Marius could still see the poet turning red and looking away, shy as a little girl, as Feuilly complimented one of his verses. He remembered Combeferre had read one, too, and when he had found a passage that was off he and pointed it out. Prouvaire had at first looked upset, but had leaned in eagerly when Combeferre had told him how he could fix it. 

   Enjolras had been arguing loudly with Bahorel. Bahorel had been red-faced and bellowing, but Enjolras had looked as statuesque as ever and had calmly stated his arguments, his voice somehow ringing louder than Bahorel's roars. 

     Then, there had been Grantaire. He had been passed out that day, and Marius had somehow found himself sharing a table with the 'wine cask.' Marius hadn't minded, though. He'd been feeling thoughtful that day, and hadn't minded just sitting and watching this lively group of boys. 

   Marius shook his head and forced himself to return to real life, much as he'd prefer to just live in his memories. There were pleasant things about the present, too, he knew. He and Cosette were wed, for one. And she was pregnant. Those were all good things. But at the same time, all his friends, and Cosette's father, were dead. Marius sighed and rose from the chair. Cosette... she would be expecting him home. As he started out the door, something in the corner caught his eye, and he stopped. 

   Marius went to the corner and bent to pick it up. It was just a piece of paper... but then he turned it over and froze. It was a portrait. 

     __

_    "It is too beautiful outdoors to plan a revolution today," Courfeyrac said as he entered the café. Enjolras, who had been in the middle of a speech, looked outraged. Courfeyrac ignored him and continued. "I propose we take a walk instead." _

_     "It is thinking such as that that is preventing __France__ from ever making any progress," Enjolras said angrily. The other Friends of the ABC looked pleased, though._

_     "I think that it's a good idea," Jean Prouvaire said shyly, and turned red as Enjolras fixed a glare on him._

_     "Come, Enjolras, you truly cannot expect us all to stay indoors on a day such as today! And no classes, either!" Courfeyrac said. He turned to the rest of the group. "Will you all accompany me?"_

_     "Of course!" Bossuet said, getting to his feet and placing his battered hat on his head. "Come along, Joly, we shall have some fun."_

_     "I'b dot sure," Joly said dubiously. "I hab allergies this tibe of year, ad a cold as well."_

_     "The fresh air will do you good," Bossuet said, and hauled Joly out of his seat. Joly shrugged and put on his hat and picked up his cane. _

_    "And you, Feuilly?" Courfeyrac asked, turning to the fan maker. Feuilly smiled and stretched out his long legs. _

_     "Well, I suppose just once will not hurt," he said, getting to his feet. _

_    "Wait, wait, I'm coming as well!" Prouvaire cried as he scrambled to gather up all of his papers and close up his bottle of ink. As soon as he'd gotten it all somewhat organized, he pushed his brown curls out of his face, leaving stripes of ink from his fingers. Combeferre laughed and handed him a handkerchief with which to wipe it off. Prouvaire handed it back and Combeferre got to his feet._

_    "I suppose I shall join you as well," he said, pushing his glasses up on his nose. "Won't you come, Enjolras?"_

_    "No," Enjolras said stubbornly. "There are more important things than just walking through the park to look at pretty girls, or whatever it is you do. If you truly cared about our cause..." _

_   Bossuet and Courfeyrac glanced at one another, then each seized one of Enjolras's arms and dragged him from the café. Grantaire made a comment that made Enjolras turn red with fury, then the wine cask got to his feet and followed the laughing Friends of the ABC out of the café. _

_     Marius ran into the group as they exited the café. He saw Joly having a sneezing fit into Prouvaire's sleeve and saw Bossuet and Courfeyrac dragging a protesting Enjolras down the street. He looked appropriately bewildered. _

_     "Courfeyrac!" he called. Courfeyrac turned. "What are you doing?" _

_    "We are going for a walk!" Courfeyrac responded cheerfully. "Would you like to join us?"_

_    Marius nodded nervously, then joined the group as it continued down the street, drawing many odd looks from passerby. Marius found himself towards the back of the clump between Feuilly and Combeferre, who was near Grantaire. Prouvaire, Joly, and Bahorel were in front of them, and Courfeyrac, Enjolras, and Bossuet were in the front. _

_    "Bossuet!" Prouvaire cried. "Joly has sneezed on me!" He held his arm out away from the rest of his body._

_     "I ab sorry! I could dot get by hadkerchief id tibe!" Joly protested thickly. Combeferre sighed good-naturedly and handed Joly the ink-stained handkerchief he had lent to Prouvaire before. Joly doubled over in another fit of sneezes, though this time into the handkerchief rather than Prouvaire's shirt. _

_     "Don't fret," Bahorel said to Prouvaire. "That shirt was spectacularly ugly. You should be grateful to be rid of it." Prouvaire looked hurt.  _

_     "Well, boys, what do you suggest we do?" Courfeyrac called over his shoulder. Enjolras was still protesting loudly, and Marius froze as he saw that a policeman was headed towards them. Combeferre had obviously noticed, too, since he was pointing, and even Joly ceased his sneezing. Courfeyrac turned to see what all his friends were staring at and started as he found himself face-to-face with a big police officer with large sideburns. Rather, head-to-chest, as the officer was easily a head taller than any of them._

_     "Monsieur! And how are you on this beautiful day?" Courfeyrac asked cheerfully. Marius and Bahorel, both of whom recognized the police officer for vastly different reasons, were trying to hide behind Feuilly, simply because he was tallest. _

_    "And what might you boys be doing?" the officer asked suspiciously, looking from Bossuet and Courfeyrac to Enjolras._

_    "Officer, they are trying to-!" Enjolras was cut off when Grantaire clapped a giant hand over his mouth. Enjolras's blue eyes widened, then narrowed in fury. That gesture confirmed, in the officer's mind, his beliefs that these boys were obviously kidnapping the blond gentleman. Why they were stupid enough to do it in broad daylight was beyond him, but figuring out the motives of the criminals wasn't his job. _

_    "If you boys would just accompany me down the street to the police station..."_

_    "Run!" Feuilly yelped, and the Friends of the ABC bolted down the street, Courfeyrac and Bossuet still dragging Enjolras between them. _

_     The boys had reached a park by the time they felt that they were finally safe and had finally lost the policeman. Joly collapsed to his knees, wheezing, and Courfeyrac leaned against Bossuet, weak with laughter. _

_     "I find myself getting into so much more trouble with you than I would otherwise," Feuilly commented. "Yet it is so amusing, I continue to return." _

_     "You could have gotten us all arrested!" Enjolras cried. "Now if you all do not mind, I am going to return-" _

_     "Hey, Feuilly," Bossuet said suddenly. "Why don't you draw a picture of us?"_

_     Feuilly looked uncomfortable, and he played with his long fingers._

_    "I am really not that good," he insisted as Prouvaire pulled a pen from his pocket and handed it to the fan maker. _

_     "I'll hab you dow that the fad of yours I gabe to Bushichetta is the ebvy of all of her frieds," Joly said, and Feuilly looked embarrassed._

_     "He's just as bad as Prouvaire is with his poetry!" Bahorel cried. _

_     "Come along, the world shall need something to remember us by when Enjolras gets us all killed," Grantaire said, earning himself a glare from a certain blond revolutionary. Prouvaire handed Feuilly a piece of paper from the notebook he always carried about and Feuilly sighed. _

_    "Well, fine." _

_    The Friends of the ABC did their best to remain still while Feuilly drew the picture, but Joly couldn't help sneezing, and when Marius moved to stop Courfeyrac's elbow digging into his shoulder, Courfeyrac, Bossuet, and Bahorel, all of whom had been leaning on Marius, fell over. Combeferre was holding onto Enjolras's sleeve to prevent him running away. _

_     "You're going to have to be more still than that," Feuilly said, frowning. _

_     "We are doing the best that we can!" Marius protested. _

_     "At this rate, it will grow dark before I finish," Feuilly said. _

_     But he did manage to finish before dark, but as he looked over the picture, he turned red and tried to stuff it in his pocket. Bahorel felt the need to pin Feuilly's arms behind his back while Courfeyrac snatched the picture._

_     "I do not see what you were being so modest for! It's beautiful!" Prouvaire said, finally managing to get a glimpse of the picture, despite Courfeyrac's attempts to hold it up above his head and out of reach. _

_   "It is not," Feuilly protested weakly, but looked pleased. _

_    "If we hurry," Grantaire said, looking at the sky, disinterested in the picture the others were fighting over. "We could reach the café with plenty of time for Apollo to host his meeting, and the rest of us would still have time to drink plenty of wine and meet with whatever mistress we are all rendezvousing with tonight." _

_     "I have to finish all of the things you prevented me from completing by dragging me out here," Enjolras said, glaring at Grantaire even though it had been Courfeyrac's idea. "So, I will be returning home. We will meet tomorrow."_

_     "Farewell, brave leader!" Grantaire called melodramatically and Feuilly hit him with Prouvaire's notebook. _

_     As Enjolras disappeared down the street, the rest of the Friends of the ABC started heading in the general direction of the Café Musain. They walked at a sluggish pace as the sun began to set. Though it was the end of a beautiful day, all were satisfied with the day's activities. _

_     "Do you suppose we-"_

_    Bossuet broke off abruptly as the police officer from earlier came storming towards them._

_     "He does not look very pleased," Marius pointed out, then scurried to hide behind Feuilly again, only to find himself joined by Bahorel, Prouvaire, and Joly. _

_     "Monsieur Inspector!" Marius heard Courfeyrac say cheerfully. "What a coincidence, to run into you twice in one day...!" _

_     "Do you subbose Edjolras will cobe rescue us?" Joly asked glumly, staring at the grey prison wall.  He and Bossuet sat back-to-back on the floor, leaning against one another. Courfeyrac and Marius sat against the back wall and Bahorel stood leaning against it. Grantaire sat in the corner, thinking that this was not the sort of way he liked to spend his evenings, and Feuilly leaned against the door. _

_     "He does not know we're here, firstly..."_

_    "And even if he did, I would think that, after today, he would be glad to be rid of us." _

_    "Sitting id a cell like this idd't good for by cold," Joly said to the only one who could stand to listen any more: Bossuet. _

_     "Well, how long do you think we'll be here?" Marius asked, wondering if Cosette would worry if he didn't show up._

_    "For a supposed charge of kidnap and fleeing an officer?" Combeferre said. _

_    "Let us just say this:" Courfeyrac interjected. "Best cancel all your upcoming tests, gents."_

  Marius chuckled softly at the memory. To most, being thrown in jail for supposedly kidnapping one of your friends wouldn't be considered such a good time, but to Marius, the day represented who each of his friends truly were: Young boys who, despite believing in such a lofty cause, just wanted to have fun. 

    And besides the memory of that day, and besides the fact that it was the only solid image of his friends he had left, the portrait Feuilly had made held still more value. For, unintentionally, each of the friends had left something of himself on the back. 

     Up in one corner was Prouvaire's dreamy scrawl, where he had unintentionally begun to write a poem. Then, there was a splash of ink as someone had yanked it away. The splash of ink ran into a smudge of mud, where Bossuet had been carrying it and had dropped it when he had had to leap out of the way of a speeding carriage that hadn't noticed him there. Courfeyrac had written several spellings of a girls' name, all crossed out, and Marius remembered that that day Courfeyrac had been trying to remember how to spell his current mistress's name so that he could write her a love letter. Grantaire had spilled some wine on it, smearing one of the names Courfeyrac had written. There was a spot where Joly had sneezed, and yet another where Combeferre had written some figures before remembering what it was he was writing on. Bahorel had scribbled something that was completely illegible, and Feuilly, of course, had drawn the picture. Even Enjolras had made his mark, in the form of a tiny red flag doodled in one corner. Marius had never thought Enjolras the type to doodle. 

     Marius turned over the picture and looked fondly at the familiar faces, then started to put it in his pocket before pausing. After searching the room thoroughly and finally coming up with a pen and a half-empty jar of ink, he wrote along the bottom: _Les Amis de l'ABC- Gone, but not forgotten. _

   No. Marius would never forget. 


End file.
